


Reluctant Princess

by SkepticalBeliever



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Diary/Journal, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Multi, POV First Person, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkepticalBeliever/pseuds/SkepticalBeliever
Summary: For nearly eighteen years, Clarke Griffin has led what she would deem a relatively normal life. All this changes when her father pays her a visit and drastically shifts her life as she knows it.--"So, here I am, sitting on my friends’ fire escape, and writing for the first time ever in this little journal. And not because I am experiencing a crisis of sexuality or my dad is undergoing another chemo treatment. No, I’m sitting here because my mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin, chief of surgery, and generally a crazy-busy woman is going on a date.My mom does not date."





	1. Chapter 1

**_October 20, 6 PM  
The Blakes’ fire escape_ **

I’m not really sure why I’m doing this. Really, this journal has been living at the bottom of my backpack for the better part of two years and, until today, I have never felt the need to crack it open. My mom gave it to me when I was fifteen and struggling to identify my sexuality. She said sexuality is a complicated and personal thing and that she wanted me to have an outlet to express those “complex emotions” in case I didn’t feel comfortable sharing them with her. It was a nice gesture but unnecessary. By the time we had had that potentially uncomfortable conversation, I had already come to terms with my identity (bisexual) and knew I could go to my mom with any lingering insecurities.

So, this diary remained untouched. I got my first girlfriend, a senior named Niylah, and I forgot all about this little book littering the bottom of my bag. We broke up six months later when she went off to college and it was fine. I was fine.

Then Dad got sick last year.

I remember getting an international phone call at nine o’clock at night and thinking to myself, “Why the hell is he calling me now; it’s three in the morning there!” Dad and I normally converse via email because of the six-hour time difference between New York and Arkadia, so a phone call was a rare occurrence and typically meant something monumental was happening. I answered the phone with a shaking hand and listened as my dad explained to me that he had cancer. The doctors had caught it early; he assured me that things were going to be fine but…different. I told him I didn’t care if things were different so long as he beat this.

And he did. Chemo was rough on him if his emails and more frequent phone calls were any indication. But he was still my dad and he was still kicking.

There were so many times when I would get the itch to write down what I was feeling. But writing those thoughts felt so final. Like if I committed them to ink and paper, I would somehow bring about a turn for the worse in my dad’s illness. It was a stupid superstition but I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to bog myself in negative thoughts if he was going to turn it around and get better.

So, here I am, sitting on my friends’ fire escape, and writing for the first time ever in this little journal. And not because I am experiencing a crisis of sexuality or my dad is undergoing another chemo treatment. No, I’m sitting here because my mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin, chief of surgery, and generally a crazy-busy woman is going on a date.

My mom does not date.

She and my dad divorced when I was a little over two years old. He had family obligations in Arkadia that, apparently, he couldn’t get around and she would not give up her hard-earned career as a surgeon to move to a foreign country. They called it; my mom kept me here with her in New York while my dad flew back to Arkadia. Despite splitting up and having a literal ocean of distance between them, my parents have managed to remain cordial with each other. Sometimes, one could even mistake their interactions as lingering affections.

I asked my mom about it when I was eleven. “Clarke,” she said, sitting me down and giving me a serious look, “sometimes you can love someone truly, deeply but still not be right for that person. Sometimes, no matter how much you wish otherwise, love isn’t enough.”

Not exactly what I had been expecting her to say.

Since that day, I guess I always expected her to be a single, busy, bad ass mom. If she had sexual partners, they never came around and she never mentioned them. She gave me the impression that romance was nice and all that but unnecessary to her happiness. Imagine my surprise when I came home from school to find her slipping on a pair of decidedly impractical heels and applying lipstick.

“Wow, Mom,” I said as I dropped my books on the kitchen counter. “What’s the occasion?”

She glanced up at me and chuckled her breathy little laugh she does whenever she’s nervous about something. Straightening her skirt, she replied, “I have a date.”

I’ll admit I probably didn’t sound like the most supportive daughter when I exclaimed, “But you _never_ date!”

She gave me this unimpressed look and said something along the lines “no time like the present.” Honestly, I was still kind of reeling from processing this new information and wasn’t fully paying attention. Abstractly, I knew my mom probably hasn’t been celibate for fifteen years, but I have never seen her actively court romance/sex before. It was bizarre.

“So, who’s the lucky person?” I asked, coming back to the present.

“He’s—” Our buzzer rang downstairs. My mom flashed a nervous smile. “Apparently here.” She donned her jacket, riffled through her purse, and checked her reflection in the hall mirror. In a rush she said, “I’ll be back by eleven. There’s leftovers in the fridge, unless you’re going to Octavia’s tonight, then don’t worry about it. Text me if you do go over there so I know. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Love you!”

I walked to the window to see if I could get a good look her date and immediately wished I hadn’t. Several floors below, chatting congenially with the doorman, was the unmistakable, impeccably coiffed hair and beard of my A.P. Government teacher, Mr. Kane. I watched as his face lit up when he saw my mom exit the building. He opened his arms to embrace her, which she accepted with no hesitation and a kiss to his cheek.

I get why she’s drawn to him. I really do. Aside from the luxurious locks and impressive facial hair, Kane is very charismatic. He’s always so knowledgeable about whatever he’s talking about and he speaks with so much passion. Not to mention, he makes himself available to help struggling students, even if it’s not necessarily school-related. All around, he seems like a truly decent guy and my mom deserves that.

However, for selfish reasons, I wish this date wasn’t happening.

Three years in high school and I’ve never quite shaken my unfairly bestowed reputation for being an ice princess. (I blame Finn Collins for that one). If my mom and Mr. Kane became a thing, it would only add fuel to the fire. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me—and most days it doesn’t—but sometimes it gets to me. I guess today is one of those days.

Knowing that my mom was on a date with my teacher was driving me nuts so I grabbed my stuff and headed over to Bellamy and Octavia Blake’s apartment in Chelsea. I’ve known Octavia since we were eight. My mom had taken me to Central Park one day and another boy was picking on Octavia. My over-inflated sense of justice prompted me to go over to him and convince him to stop being such a bully (I was a bit delusional, I’ll admit). Anyway, I ended up getting shoved on my ass before Octavia decked the kid and Bellamy, Octavia’s older brother, broke it up and scared the kid away. She and I have been friends since, although it took a few years for Bellamy to decide I wasn’t a total troll or anything.

Bellamy answered the door when I arrived, bag slung over my shoulder and forced smile plastered to my face. His glasses were askew and his dark curls were a bit rumpled; his tie was loose around his neck and the first few buttons on his collar were undone in a way I tried very hard not find distracting. I got the distinct impression he was not expecting visitors. “What’s up, Clarke?” he asked, his gravelly voice even deeper than normal.

“Is Octavia here?”

“She won’t be back for another half hour. Kickboxing class. But you’re welcome to come in and wait, I guess.”

“Thanks,” I said as I brushed past him. It only took me a moment to realize why Bellamy seemed so harried when he answered the door. Apparently, he had company.

When Bellamy started dating Gina Martin a few months ago, I remember feeling weirdly disappointed. I thought I had gotten over my juvenile crush of mine ages ago. What made the whole thing worse was that I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed because he had a serious girlfriend or because I hadn’t really moved on from those inconvenient feelings. A part of me really wanted to dislike Gina but I quickly learned that that was like trying to climb a waterfall barehanded. She was snarky and thoughtful and genuinely nice. Totally Bellamy’s type.

She smiled at me when I walked into the living room, blush blooming on her cheeks as she quickly buttoned her pants. “Hey, Clarke. How’s it going?” she asked as she fluffed her chocolate-colored ringlets.

“Fine. You?”

“Alright,” she replied with a grin. “Just on my way out.”

I told her she didn’t have to leave on my account but she assured me it was just because she had a bartending shift in half an hour. As she was leaving, she kissed Bellamy and softly murmured something in his ear that made his eyes get this warm, affectionate look. I looked away and tried my best to ignore the twinge in my chest.

The window to the fire escape was open and seemed to beckon me with the cool October air. I clambered out and dug through my bag for this little book because I really needed to vent; the person I had come to see wasn’t home yet; and I didn’t feel much like sharing with Bellamy at the moment.

**Five Personal Inconvenient Truths  
By Clarke Griffin**

  1. My mom, who has been single since I was two, has started dating again
  2. My mom is on a date with my teacher
  3. As much as I’d like to talk about this with my dad, I’m not sure that’d be a good idea because his previous relationship with my mom
  4. I need to start filling out college applications
  5. I will probably always have at least a passive crush on Bellamy Blake



* * *

**_October 21, 1:45 PM  
My bedroom_ **

Apparently, my dad is in town. I found this out last night when I texted my mom to tell her I was staying over at the Blakes’ and she responded with a long, detailed message about how that was all fine as long as I was home by noon so that I could be ready to meet with my dad at two. I didn’t even know he was in the country, let alone the same city as me. Apparently, he has something important he needs to tell me but my mother won’t give me a clue about what it is. I’m terrified that his cancer has come back. I asked my mom if that’s what this was about to which she quickly said no. But then what else could it be? Why would he fly across the Atlantic to tell me something when he could easily email me or call?

Also, while not as pressing as my dad’s mystery reason for visiting, it is noteworthy that my mom has yet to mention that she went on a date with my teacher. I told Octavia about it when she came home from teaching her beginner’s kickboxing class at the youth center and she laughed in my face. Bellamy, at least, had some insight into what Kane might have been thinking. Bellamy is currently in college to become a teacher and has been student teaching at our school, teaching World History. I’m not sure how much global history is being taught in that class when the vast majority of it focuses on European history, but I digress. The point is that Bellamy saw Kane in the teacher’s lounge earlier; he had been _humming_ to himself. Kane, not Bellamy. I doubt Bellamy has ever felt chipper enough to hum to himself. Anyway, Bellamy asked him why he was in such a good mood and Kane told him he’d recently reconnected with an old friend of his and he was seeing her for dinner.

Mom and Kane knew each other? When? Why didn’t anyone tell me before?

Bellamy didn’t understand why I was freaking out so much. He kindly reminded me that my mom could do a hell of a lot worse. This is all very true but still. I wish someone could have given me a heads up.

Woops! Time to go. I’ll write more later. Maybe.

* * *

**_October 21, 9:50 PM  
Octavia’s room_ **

I wonder if I can just stay here since I have no desire to go home again.

Number of calls from Mom: 8  
Number of calls from Dad: 13  
Number of calls from Wells: 3  
Number of calls I’ve answered: 0

* * *

**_October 21, 10:15 PM  
Still Octavia’s room…_ **

O keeps glancing over at me every time my phone buzzes, which seems to happen every five minutes or so. From the glare she keeps shooting at it, she’s either super annoyed or super concerned. Maybe a little bit of both. But so far, she hasn’t pushed me to tell her and I’m not in a sharing mood. What happened this afternoon isn’t something I can just casually tell someone, even someone I’ve known as long as I’ve known Octavia.

It started when Mom and I arrived at the Plaza. We were supposed to meet Dad there and join him for a late lunch. Except, as it turned out, we were not only meeting with him, but also with his close friend, the Chancellor of Arkadia, Thelonious Jaha, and Jaha’s son, Wells.

We were escorted up to my dad’s suite where the illustrious group was waiting for us. They had tea prepared in a formal sitting room like something from Downton Abbey. I could tell something was off then. This wasn’t my dad. My dad, despite being the head of his family business (the details of which, until today, had never been divulged), had always been a fairly relaxed person, preferring lounging with a pint of ale and watching a soccer game with me when I’d visit him at his summer home in France. This stiff, suit-wearing man, who drinks tea like some overly dignified gentleman was a stranger to me.

I caught Wells’ eye and he frowned back at me. Clearly, something didn’t feel right to him either.

Jaha, for his part, seemed perfectly at ease with this scenario. Or at least, as content as I’d ever seen him, the handful of times we had interacted prior to today. “Thank you, Abby, Clarke,” he said, nodding to my mom and I, “for joining us on such short notice.”

“Of course, Thelonious,” Mom replied, “It’s always good to see you. All of you.” She was addressing each of our hosts but was pointedly avoiding my dad’s gaze. At the time, I chalked it up to feeling guilty about going on a date for the first time in so long. Now, I realize that probably wasn’t at all at the forefront of my mom’s thoughts in those moments.

I glanced at my dad, curious to see how he would respond, but he remained oddly quiet, eyes serious as he returned my gaze.

“Well, I’d like to say that this was a social call, but I’m afraid, we’re here for a more pressing reason. Jake,” he said, gesturing to my dad to begin.

I watched him closely. I could see how the year of chemotherapy had left him weathered, exhausted, like a piece of driftwood drying, half-buried in the sand. His blue eyes, which used to twinkle, looked glazed. His mouth, which used to always have a smile for me, turned down in the corners.

“Clarke,” he said, using the same tone he’d use when he was mediating an argument between me and my mom over the phone, “this is going to be hard to hear. And I want you to know that we wouldn’t be here if there was an alternative.”

“Okay…” I said, feeling dread claw at my throat. This was the part where my dad tells me his cancer came back and there was nothing doctors could do this time. I was sure of it.

What he actually said caught me completely off guard.

“I can’t have any more kids.”

Mom jumped in at this point, explaining that one of the side effects of his chemotherapy was that he could become sterile. Evidently, he had. Still, I could not see what this had to do with me and Mom. Also, this felt like a completely inappropriate conversation to having in front of Thelonious Jaha and his son! I know their diplomats, but couldn’t they go out and go do something. There are millions of things to do in Manhattan; they certainly didn’t need to stay in the hotel and listen to my dad explain his fertility woes.

“Do you remember why your mother and I divorced, Clarke?”

“Because of your careers,” I answered immediately. As if there could be any other reason.

“In a manner of speaking. But it was more than that.” Dad paused to collect his thoughts. Meanwhile, I was having mild freak-out inside my head. What the hell was going on? “Your mother, of course, is brilliant and worked hard to get to where she was and is in her career. It was completely understandable why she wanted to maintain that. The problem in our marriage was with me and my obligations to my family, to my…people.”

“What are you saying, Dad?”

“I’m saying, Clarke, that, just like Thelonious here is the Chancellor of Arkadia, I am the…crowned prince. Since I can no longer father children, that makes you my sole heir.”

What. The. Fuck?!

~~How does one~~

~~When were they going to~~

Why didn’t they _tell_ me?

I mean, I know why they didn’t tell me. They explained their reasons at length. What I don’t understand is how they could go for nearly eighteen years and not tell me about this crucial aspect of my life? Who does that? How could they lie to their own daughter like that?

As I listened to them explain about how my mom wanted me to live a normal life away from all the aristocratic bullshit, all I could think about was what a monumental moron I am. How did I go for nearly eighteen years and not realize something was up? For example, every time I visited my dad over the summer, all the staff gave me deferential treatment. At the time, I thought it was just because I was their boss’ kid. Now I realize it was because I am their _sovereign’s_ kid. I thought about how street vendors would insist on giving me trinkets for free and how boutiques would open early or close late just so my dad’s assistant could take me shopping for clothes that would accommodate my growing pubescent body.

Did the whole damn world know who I was except me?

I wonder if Bellamy knew… He’s a total history and politics junkie; it wouldn’t surprise me.

~~I’ll slug him if he did.~~

I sat their numbly through the whole explanation and only when my mom, my dad, and Jaha finished explaining their reasons and what was expected of me from here on out, did I speak. “I need a minute,” I said in a surprisingly calm voice considering how much I was freaking out inside. Without further explanation, I stood, turned on my heel and walked out of the suite, into the elevator, and out the lobby onto the busy streets of Manhattan.

I wandered for a couple hours, reviewing every memory of my childhood under this new lens. Humiliation gripped me tightly, as well as anxiety because everything I knew had suddenly been torn asunder. In the past, when I have felt overwhelmed like this, I have taken to researching the topic to get all the information I would need. I ducked into a Starbucks to use their Wi-Fi and pulled up my browser to search Arkadia. The Wikipedia page for it was disappointingly short, considering how much the internet loves to fabricate. I was about to try a different site when my phone started to ring. And ring. And ring.

My parents had been conveniently reticent about my being royalty for the last seventeen years but now they couldn’t stop trying to talk to me about it. Well, no cigar. I wasn’t interested. It was definitely petty of me, but all things considered, I didn’t feel too badly about turning my phone off and hopping on the subway to go see the Blakes.

A short train ride later and I was standing on their stoop, feeling completely drained. I must have looked as awful as I felt because as soon as Octavia answered the door, the first words out of her mouth were, “Okay, whose ass do I need to kick?”

I smiled weakly and tugged her close for a hug. She patted my back in a manner that I think she meant to be soothing but, if anything, it just left me feeling sore. Hugs have never been her first choice for showing affection.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

“No problem,” she said pulling away and shuffling me inside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I replied. And I still don’t. Honestly, I can’t. Who the hell would believe me?

Weirdly enough, writing it down has helped a little though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like intelligent feedback. Please comment below!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does it take to become a "proper princess"? Clarke is about to get a crash course, all while hiding the truth from her friends and dealing with the unwanted attentions of an ex.

**_October 22, 8:27 PM_ **  
**_My room_ **

Evidently, my parents did not appreciate my “little disappearing act” yesterday. _What if I had gotten hurt?_ Mom wanted to know. _What if I did something needlessly reckless?_ Dad had worried. _What if I had been kidnapped, held for ransom, and left Arkadia bankrupt?_ Chancellor Jaha lectured.

Well, Mom, I have aced all my first aid courses and know which hospital is the fastest to get to from any of the boroughs. Dad, you seriously over estimate my ability to behave recklessly; I have a near-unshakeable reputation for being a stick in the mud. And, last time I checked, Chancellor Jaha, my parents’ marriage and my subsequent birth had all been kept relatively private (at least from the media) and, until very recently, I had not been considered the legal heir to anything besides my grandmother’s old easel. So, why the hell would anyone be interested in holding me for ransom when there are much more viable targets for any self-respecting hustler?

Wells has been the only one who has been even slightly rational about this.

If there is a god out there, he, she, or it really ought to bless Wells Jaha because he is legitimately one of the few good ones on this sad rock of a planet.

After my parents had realized I had gone AWOL yesterday, my mom was about two seconds away from notifying the authorities; my dad had the Arkadian air force ready on speed dial; and Jaha was fully prepared to send out a bounty hunter to bring me back. Wells, thankfully, talked them all down from their respective ledges and conferred with my mom to figure out where I was most likely to go. It didn’t take them long to realize I would probably seek out the safe familiarity of my friends. The list of places I could be immediately shrunk.

Mom called up Bellamy because out of the three Blakes, he was easily the most responsible and most likely to pick up the phone, especially if it was his friend’s mother on the other end of the call. He had been out with Gina at the time and didn’t know where I was but he assured her that he would call back as soon as he knew I was safe. He made good on his promise when he came home around midnight, after seeing me huddled up on his couch watching some weird conspiracy theory special on the History Channel.

Bellamy is definitely suspicious but has opted to wait for me to talk about it. He’s probably going to have to wait a while because I am so not confirming that his little nickname— _princess_ —is an accurate moniker.

Anyway, I came home early this afternoon to find my mother, my father, the chancellor, Wells, a burly man I later learned was named Roan, and a woman I learned was named Becca all congregating in my living room. There was a brief moment of stillness when I walked into the room, all eyes locked on me, before they all pounced. Dad had pulled me tightly into his arms; Mom was near tears; Jaha seemed utterly furious; Becca lectured me with astonishingly cool authority considering she and I had never interacted before that very moment. Wells and Roan stood off on the sidelines; the former, waiting for an opportunity to intervene, the latter, seemingly uninterested in the whole affair.

After I had assured everyone that, yes, I was fine and, no, nothing untoward happened to me between the time I had left them yesterday and arrived home today, I was subjected to the longest lecture of my life about responsibility and duty and I cannot go running off like that anymore and yada, yada, yada. The thing is, I get where they were coming from. I really do. Taking off like I did yesterday was, in hindsight, pretty stupid. Not answering any of their phone calls or texts was also incredibly petty of me. But, I just wanted them to feel a little bit like how I felt when they dropped that bomb on me: scared, uncertain, overwhelmed.

My little stunt has cost me my freedom for the next month, at least (although, I’m not sure how they plan to detain me for more than that since I will be legally an adult in a few weeks). Effective immediately, I’m grounded. No going out, no seeing friends outside of school, and no visitors here unless it’s for classwork. Oh, and I will be escorted to and from school by my new body guard, Roan. After school, I will be subjected to princess lessons by Jaha’s assistant, Becca.

_PRINCESS LESSONS?_

From the description that Becca gave in her syllabus (she has a freaking syllabus!), we will be covering everything from customary curtsies to formal dinner etiquette. Diplomacy? Nope. How to address Parliament? Nada. Apparently, the thing that concerns everyone is not my ability to serve as a representative of Arkadia to the global community, but rather whether or not I will embarrass myself by using the wrong fork in front of the ambassador of France.

The only good thing about this is that I get to keep Wells. While my dad and the chancellor will be returning to Arkadia in a few days, Wells will be staying behind. He emailed me a couple months ago about applying to my school’s exchange student program. Jaha has allowed him to remain in New York with the understanding that Wells will assist in my lessons and provide him and my father additional feedback on my progress. I can’t say I’m thrilled to have my friend essentially spy on me but at least this way I’ll have someone I can talk to about this whole mess who isn’t one of my parents.

* * *

**_October 23, 11:13 AM_**  
**_A.P. Government_**

Crap, it is really hard to concentrate today. I feel kind of bad about since Kane seems to be really into his lecture today. All I can think about is the collective shock written all over my friends’ faces when Roan and I pulled up in front of the school today. I tried to convince him to stop a few blocks away so as not to cause a scene but he wasn’t having any of it. He told me my dad’s orders were explicit and between the two of us, he was inclined to side with the person who signs his paychecks.

I got the distinct impression that he was enjoying my discomfort with the whole royalty thing.

Anyway, we got to school and I could see Monty, Jasper, Maya, Harper, and Octavia all congregated in front of the entrance. Most of them looked confused at first when they saw the limousine come to a stop in front of their school. Then that confusion quickly turned into a mixture of teasing smirks (Monty, Maya, and Harper), unbridled delight (Jasper), and thinly veiled disgust (Octavia) when they realized I was the passenger inside.

“What the hell was that?” O more or less demanded when I reached the rest of the group.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, brushing past her and hurrying to my locker.

So, naturally, I ran right into Bellamy, who had also clearly witnessed my ostentatious arrival to school. He opened his mouth to make a very clever comment about my privileged status, I’m sure, but I was in no mood to listen to his teasing. “Please don’t,” I sighed heavily. “I really don’t need your caustic wit right now.”

“As you wish, Princess,” he murmured with a smirk before sidestepping me to go talk to Principal Wallace about who knows what.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. For one brief and terrifying moment, I was certain he knew. Thankfully, the rational part of my mind kicked in and yelled at the rest of my brain for jumping to insane conclusions. Bellamy has called me princess for years, first as a barb, then as some strange term of endearment. As far as I know, Arkadia has never been of interest to him; his interests lie with ancient civilizations and mythology, not tiny principalities the size of a small U.S. city (in terms of population, at least).

It is highly unlikely that he has a clue about who/what my father is and what that makes me.

* * *

**_October 23, 7:07 PM_ **  
**_Limo ride home_ **

Princess lessons are without a doubt the dumbest and most vapid thing I have ever been forced to endure. Today was my first lesson with Becca, or Ms. Pramheda as she insists I call her. How have we spent the last three and a half hours? Sitting.

That’s right.

Apparently, I require sitting instruction.

Three and a half hours of her repositioning my shoulders and my hands, forcing me to practice crossing and uncrossing my ankles. Every time I thought I had mastered what she was asking of me, she had a new critique to give. My hands were too tense; my shoulders were too slumped; my chin was too low; my chest was puffed out too far. Really, you’d think the world was going to end if I sat slightly too far to the left on my cushion. Meanwhile, Wells sat in the corner of the hotel suit, hunched over his schoolwork and chuckling to himself anytime he particularly felt my irritation.

I wonder what he will report to our fathers this evening in his nightly email.

 **Homework** :

  * **A.P. Literature** finish reading Act 1 of _Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf_
  * **Anatomy** review questions at the end of chapters 4 and 5
  * **A.P. Government** begin outline for paper
  * **Art IV** find a work that demonstrates chiaroscuro and write a brief analysis of its use, continue senior portfolio
  * **A.P. Calculus** odd problems on page 59
  * **Spanish** necesito escribir sobre un evento actual en español
  * **Gifted and Talented** n/a



**Things to do** :

  * Convince Dad that there are better things I can learn in princess lessons than how to sit properly
  * Ask Mom about her date with Mr. Kane
  * Find a way to convince Roan to not drop me off in front of school tomorrow if I must ride in that ridiculous limo
  * Think of a plausible explanation for said limo if I am unable to convince Roan

* * *




_**October 24, 2:10 PM** _  
_**Gifted and Talented** _

My dad and Chancellor Jaha seem pretty keen to keep this whole princess thing under wraps until I have been deemed ready to be officially presented to the public. Which is why it would probably be imprudent of me to murder Finn Collins for being an exceptionally obtuse individual.

Really, what the hell was he thinking?

I first met Finn as a freshman. Immediately, I found his sanctimonious pacifism off-putting and made a conscious effort to not linger too long in his presence. He likes to perpetuate this idea that he’s a deep, rebellious, socially conscious guy and this image somehow leaves girls swooning; he even caught Octavia’s eye for a brief moment before she wised up and found his behavior nauseating. Then my dad got sick and my judgement was clearly impaired by my anxiety; suddenly, I found his deep rebel act appealing instead of manufactured. We sat together in Spanish and often studied together and flirted frequently, too.

He was the first guy I had ever been with and that left a bitter taste in my mouth when I realized that I was not, in fact, the only girl he was seeing. As it turns out, he already had another girlfriend who, up until midway through last year, went to another school. Of course, I was hurt to find all this out but, more than anything, I was baffled by it. Raven’s awesome. She’s smart, beautiful, athletic. Why would anyone cheat when they have her? Hell, if she gave me any indication that she swung my way, _I’d_ date her.

When I found out the truth, I told Finn it was over and naively thought that was the end of that. No such luck. Despite allegedly trying to work things out with Raven, Finn still tried to pursue whatever our thing was. One would think he’d take a hint when I kept telling him “no” but Finn has proven to be tenacious in his pursuit of infidelity.

Which leads me to what happened between Spanish and Gifted and Talented. Since the end of last semester, I have made a habit of booking it out of Spanish before Finn could find the opportunity to corner me. Today, I was not so lucky. I nearly made it to Gifted and Talented with no incident when I felt a familiar hand wrap around my wrist and turn me around.

“Clarke,” Finn said, breathless. From the way he was panting, I could tell he had sprinted to catch up to me.

I yanked my hand out of his grasp. “What do you want, Finn?”

He took a step closer, enough to make it look like he was just trying to avoid the foot traffic, but I knew better. This was his move, what tipped our flirtation over the edge into a full-blown hook up session last year. He likes to move in close so that he can lower his voice to an intimate level and gaze into your eyes in what he perceives is a smoldering fashion. I’m embarrassed to say this once worked on me, but given the circumstances, I was not having it today.

“I wish you would stop avoiding me,” he said, and ah yes, there was “the smolder.” “I miss what we had.”

“We had sex _once_ ,” I reminded him through clenched teeth.

“Great sex,” he interrupted.

Of course, this was the moment I saw his girlfriend coming down the hall towards us. “It was a mistake,” I hissed. How the hell could I get him to understand? “One that I would like to move on from, thank you very much.”

Raven was getting closer and I was silently praying that she didn’t notice us talking.

“Well, I don’t think I can.”

From the way she brushed past Finn’s shoulder, I could tell she definitely heard us. Her steps sped up as she essentially stormed into the Gifted and Talented room. My stomach dropped.

“We’re done here,” I said before turning on my heel and rushing off to class.

She was seated at her desk, front row, next to the window, with her earbuds in and her laptop out. Her brows were furrowed as she glared at her computer screen. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Everything about her demeanor told me and everyone else in class that she was royally pissed off.

“Raven,” I said, ignoring the warnings in my mind to leave her be.

“Don’t,” she replied without looking up from her computer.

“I—”

She pulled her earbuds out of her ears and glared up at me. “ _No_. I get that it wasn’t your fault but I really don’t want to do this with you. Okay?”

The thing is, Raven’s right. What happened last year and what happened in the hallway a few minutes ago wasn’t my fault. But I still feel guilty.

 **Things I don’t understand right now** :

  1. Why the hell would Finn cheat on Raven? Seriously, she’s a total catch.
  2. Why does she stay with him? There are so many guys (or girls, if she decided she was into that) that could treat her better.
  3. Why the fuck did I find him appealing in the first place? I mean, I know I was under a lot of stress last year but every time I remember that hook up, I cringe. Despite what he said, the sex was just okay. Certainly not great.
  4. Why the school administration insists on registering me in this “class” every semester. It’s not a class. It’s a glorified study hall for “gifted” students.



**Things I would like to do right now** :

  1. Skip princess lessons this afternoon. Apparently, we’re learning the art of the curtsy today. Someone shoot me now.
  2. Tell my friends what’s going on in my life. I probably won’t do this because my family wants me to keep it secret until they make a public announcement and because I don’t really know how to begin. “Hey, guys, guess what. I’m a princess of a small European country!” Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.
  3. Talk to Wells. At least he already knows what’s going on so I can vent to him without having to fill in all the backstory.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like intelligent feedback. Please comment below!
> 
> Side note: How awesome was that trailer?!


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